


Calpernia's Footsteps

by NapalmChicken



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Adult Wednesday, BDSM, Dildos, F/F, Girls in Chains, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Magic, Tribadism, Whipping, dance naked, enslaved minister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 17:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NapalmChicken/pseuds/NapalmChicken
Summary: Wednesday has finally graduated from college. Time to dance naked and enslave the new minister.





	Calpernia's Footsteps

Calpernia’s Footsteps

Megan cleaned the dishes off her dining room table and took them into the kitchen to wash. She’d actually made herself a real meal tonight instead of ordering out again because it was healthier, but something about the act of cooking a whole meal when there was no one around to share it with made her heart feel cold. She was new in this city, having been transferred here to make sure the local church had a minister, and she was very excited that the elders in her denomination had so much faith in her even when she was at a fairly young age. But that didn’t make these early days any less lonely. She was sure that after she’d been here a while she would have friends, but whenever she wasn’t up in front of a congregation, she simply had trouble being outgoing.

It didn’t help any that she was just starting to face certain truths about herself and what she needed when it came to companionship. Her denomination was fully accepting of people like her, but that didn’t mean that the people of a city this small would be.

As she washed the dishes, though, her mind began to wander to some of the other people she’d managed to meet so far in town. She might come off as different from some of these people because of her sexuality, but she was hardly the only person here who was different. There was, after all, that family in the huge mansion just down the road at the edge of the city. She’d met two of them the other day while she was out grocery shopping. Lots of the other people had kept away from them, but when the husband and wife had come up to her and introduced themselves in their charmingly eccentric way, Megan couldn’t help but be intrigued. They’d dressed in beautiful clothing, the kind that definitely showed off their wealth, but it had been dark and morbid like they were on their way to a funeral. Their conversations had gone to the odd and ghoulish, yet everything they spoke of was infused with a peculiar zest for life. And their names! Megan had a tendency to be bad with names, but it was impossible to forget theirs.

Gomez and Morticia, they had introduced themselves as. Gomez and Morticia Addams.

Looking out her back window, Megan could see their house in the distance. There weren’t any buildings between here and there, just a large expanse of land that the Addamses had let grow wild. There was even something that might have been a graveyard, but Megan couldn’t be certain in the October evening darkness. It was the sort of landscape that would have given most people the chills, but Megan saw beauty in it. Just because something was dark or macabre didn’t mean it was evil. Megan believed that the divine could be seen in all things, even those that scared most people.

Somewhere out on the land between here and the Addams mansion, a flickering light came to life. It looked like a fire, but it was obviously controlled, like a campfire or bonfire. Whatever it was, Megan instantly felt a strange prickling in her chest at the sight. It was bizarre. She suddenly had a very strong feeling that she was being invited somewhere, but whatever force was calling her was very adamant that it would force her to do nothing. If she was going to accept this invite, she needed to do it of her own free will.

Megan flashed back to just an hour earlier, when she’d said her prayers over her meal, and how she had felt the sudden need to ask for some kind of sign, anything at all, that would lead to her being less lonely.

_This is that sign_, a small voice in her head seemed to say. _You can heed it or you can ignore it_.

Although she knew it was crazy, Megan felt like she had to listen. Something strong, something powerful. And even though it was something out there in the darkness, it was something that felt right and pure.

Megan almost didn’t remember to turn the water off as she left the sink. Neither did she grab her purse or a coat, despite the chill of the evening. For some unexplainable reason, she thought she would be plenty warm soon enough. As she walked out the back door of her house, she even forgot to close it. She remembered when she was halfway across her back lawn, but she didn’t go back to correct this. This wasn’t the kind of place where someone was likely to break into her home, and she also had the strong feeling like some force was protecting both it and her right now.

The land between her home and the Addams mansion was overgrown with brush in many places and incredibly rocky. The stones bit into Megan’s feet, but she barely registered that she hadn’t even bothered to put on shoes and was just walking in her socks. In fact, after a while the socks themselves began to feel like too much. She stopped just long enough to take them off and fling them off somewhere into the weeds.

_That doesn’t make a lot of sense_, Megan thought to herself. Then her mind added, _It may be weird, but sometimes weird is good_.

Her mind continued to dwell on that thought as she kept walking. The distance between her and the strange light kept shrinking, and yet somehow it continued to feel maddeningly far away. In response to this, for some reason it seemed like a good idea to take off her shirt. Then her pants. As she reached the edge of the Addams graveyard, she wore nothing but a black bra and panties. Even that much clothing seemed strangely disrespectful in this place. As she passed some of the gravestones, she saw archaic names listed with strange deeds, things done by people who had obviously been living their lives to the fullest in their own unique ways before going on to whatever came next after this world. One crude stone carving seemed to depict a naked woman dancing amid a crowd of adoring men bowing at her feet. Megan stopped at it long enough to take off her remaining clothes and leave them at the base of the carving like some kind of offering for luck or good fortune.

The deeper she got into the graveyard, the more she could see that the source of the light was indeed a bonfire spewing sparks up into the dark sky. While the crackle of the flames was clearly audible, it was secondary to the orchestral sounding music coming from somewhere nearby, even though Megan couldn’t see anyone at all with instruments. There were multiple people around the fire, each of them appearing to dance in their own way to music that seemed to be at a beat unique to each one of them and completely separate from what Megan was hearing. The music swelled every time she passed a gravestone like it was being played by the ancestors honored here. It should have frightened Megan, but instead the music just made her feel comfortable and serene. There was something warm and familiar about this place and, despite all visuals to the contrary, full of love and affection.

The bonfire was at the center of a large circle among the headstones and crypts. At the far side there was a large stone slab that looked suspiciously like some kind of sacrificial altar, and next to it was a tall marble arch. There were manacles hanging from the top of it as well as connected to the base that looked like they had been freshly polished. As much as those details drew her attention, though, it was the people that were truly worthy of watching. Of the eight of them, two were faces that Megan recognized. Gomez and Morticia Addams were clasped together in a traditional ballroom dance posture, and the two of them moved around the fire with a gothic grace that made Megan jealous. A pudgy young man with close-cropped hair, who appeared to be in his late teens, did some kind of rhythmless dance that required him to swing his arms around wildly. A boy stood nearby him juggling daggers. He would have been the spitting image of Gomez right down to the mustache if he wasn’t noticeably shorter and younger. A bald, stocky man ran around the fire with something in his mouth, but it took Megan a few seconds to recognize the item as a lightbulb. Something about the way the fire lit it made the bulb appear to be glowing of its own accord. Separate from the others but still very obviously a part of the family, a giant of a man moved awkwardly with his legs and hands, but even though no smile touched his face he still appeared to be having a good time.

Only two people in the group didn’t seem to be dancing. They were hard to see at first, as they were around on the far side of the fire. They had something laid out in front of them that they were both studying intently as they muttered to themselves. One of them was an old crone of indeterminate age, and it looked like she might have been instructing the other in something from a book that was open before them.

The other was a young woman. Megan’s breath caught at the sight of her. She might have been the most beautiful woman Megan had ever seen.

There was little doubt after seeing her for only a few seconds that she had to be Morticia’s daughter. She had the same shimmery black hair and voluptuous figure, but unlike the long loose hair of her mother, this woman kept her hair in two braids on either side of her head that would have made her look a lot younger if it wasn’t the for mature, serious expression on her perfect pale face. Her blouse and skirt would have also suggested someone younger if it wasn’t for the incredibly short skirt and the way the first several buttons of her top were undone to show the slopes of her breasts underneath.

“No, no, no,” the older woman was saying to the younger. “First you add the tears of a virgin, _then_ you add the blood of a serial killer.”

“And then after that, that’s when I mix in the powdered bones of a Wall Street investor?”

The old woman nodded. “The most evil ingredient of them all. Use it sparingly. Hunting on Wall Street isn’t as easy as it used to be. Why, back in my day, after a stock market crash, you could just scrape them up off the sidewalk.”

Megan saw that the two of them had a small cauldron near their book, and it seemed to be heating with its proximity to the fire. The young woman put a pinch of something inside, but before Megan could get any closer to see specifics, Morticia and Gomez stopped dancing and sauntered over to her.

“Ah! Good show!” Gomez cried jovially at her. “You name was Megan, wasn’t it?”

Megan suddenly realized that she was completely naked for some reason. She was about to try covering herself up, but neither Morticia nor Gomez seemed shocked by her state. Neither of them stared or leered at her naked form. It was like they had fully expected someone to show up looking exactly like this.

“Um, yes,” Megan said, suddenly not sure what to say. Her head felt foggy, yet she didn’t feel like she was doing anything she didn’t want to. If anything she felt strangely free standing in the buff as these people happily danced around her. “We met earlier in the week.”

“I must say, you’re not what we expected to show up tonight,” Morticia said. “Ministers have changed quite a bit since Great Aunt Calpernia’s time. But we’re very happy that you’ve come.”

“Uh, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on,” Megan said.

“Nonsense!” Gomez said. “Isn’t it obvious? This is a party!”

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to show up uninvited.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Morticia said. “You’re here, aren’t you? If you answered the call, then obviously you were the one invited.”

“I suppose,” Megan said. The surreal logic beyond Morticia’s statement made her suddenly wonder if she was actually in a dream. That was the only way any of this could make sense. Strangely, that made her feel more comfortable. “If this is a party, then what’s the occasion?”

“It’s a graduation party,” the young man with the buzzed head said. “For my sister. She graduated from college today.”

“A master’s in Mortuary Science!” Gomez said proudly. “With a minor in 17th Century spells and hexes.”

“For her final project she embalmed her professor,” Morticia said.

“Oh. Uh, good for her,” Megan said. She couldn’t help but look back and stare at the young woman casting the spell by the fire. Was it her imagination, or had yet another button on that blouse come undone by itself? “Is that her over there?”

“Ah yes, you’ll be wanting to meet her, of course,” Gomez said. “It would be poor form indeed to not give the two of you a proper introduction before she starts doing what she’s going to do to you.” He turned and called out to his daughter. “Wednesday! Your special guest has arrived!”

“I’ll be there in a minute, father. I just need to finish the last of these spells.”

Megan felt like she should have been worried at Gomez’s cryptic words, but instead all she felt was a growing tickle of anticipation in her stomach. Now more than ever she was convinced that she must have fallen asleep at the dinner table. “What do you mean by, ‘before she starts doing what she’s going to do to me?’”

“If there’s one person in the Addams family tree that Wednesday has always admired, it’s Great Aunt Calpernia,” Morticia said as if that somehow explained it. “She was fascinated with her ever since she was a child. Calpernia Addams was burned at the stake for witchcraft after she danced naked in the town square and sexually enslaved the minister. But we always told Wednesday that she needed to complete college first so she had something to fall back on if sexually enthralling the townsfolk didn’t pan out. So we made her a promise: on the night she graduated, we would help her recreate Calpernia’s rituals.”

Megan couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s kind of funny, what you said about the minister. I just so happen to be a minister too.”

“Yes, we know!” Gomez said joyously.

_Oh,_ Megan thought. _OH!_

“But… but what if I don’t want to be sexually enslaved?”

Morticia cocked her head as though that was the strangest thing she’d ever heard. “But dear, don’t you?”

Megan opened her mouth to answer negatively only find that she couldn’t. No, that wasn’t true. She could say she didn’t want that at all. But it would be a lie.

The growing dampness between her legs told her that much.

“Regardless of what the minister said after Calpernia had her way with him, Calpernia’s spell isn’t some kind love spell that turns one into a raving sexual psychopath,” Morticia said, then coyly looked at Gomez. “That’s for later.”

Gomez growled before taking Morticia’s hand and started kissing it. Morticia ignored him as she continued explaining. “Calpernia’s spell is an attraction spell. It calls out to someone who would be open to the delights it offers. It’s entirely possible to resist it. If not, there would be a lot more people here tonight to satisfy my daughter than just you. So if you answered its call, then there must be some part of you that yearns for more than what you have.”

Megan gaped at Morticia. It was like she had read Megan’s thoughts from earlier in the night, then took them to the naughtiest conclusion possible.

“So you’re saying that I don’t have to stay here? If I wanted to, I could turn around and go back home and convince myself that this really was all a dream?”

“Of course you could, dear,” Morticia said. Gomez had kissed all the way up her arm and shoulder and was now nibbling on her neck, making it harder for Morticia to ignore him. She very much looked like she was ready to take her husband somewhere and do some sexual spellcraft of her own. “An Addams would never, ever force sex on someone who didn’t wish it. The question is, is leaving right now really what you want to do?”

Megan wasn’t quite sure about the answer to that yet, although she was starting to have an inkling as Wednesday Addams stood up. The old woman gathered up the cauldron, book, and ingredients as Wednesday slowly and purposely walked around the fire in Megan’s direction.

“Gomez, dear, I do believe it’s time for all the rest of us to go inside so that our Wednesday can have _carte blanche _with her guest.”

Gomez came up from his wife’s neck for air and stared adoringly at her face. “Tish, you just spoke French.”

“And I’m sure I’ll be speaking in many other tongues before the night is over, my love.”

“If it’s tongues you want, I have quite a few in jars in our bedroom.”

“Gomez, you say the sexiest things.” She pulled herself away from her husband long enough to gesture at the rest of her clan. “Come along now, everyone. Pubert, help your Grandmama with the spell supplies. Pugsley, do go get your Uncle Fester before he runs off and drowns in the swamp again. Lurch, would you be so kind as to find where Thing went off to?”

Most of the family started off to the Addams mansion except for the tall man, who started poking around at the nearest gravestones. He’d only checked two before a disembodied hand jumped out from behind one, pointed toward the house, and then ran toward it on its fingers. The hand stopped right in front of Megan long enough to give her a thumbs up, then continued on with the tall man lumbering behind it.

_Definitely dreaming_, Megan thought. _No way that I’m not. But somehow all this really is quite wonderful_.

As all the family but Wednesday left the circle, the music Megan had been hearing cut off. The only sound remaining was the roar of the bonfire and the chirp of crickets. Wednesday came to stand about five feet from her. For several minutes as she’d been talking to Gomez and Morticia, Megan had nearly forgotten that she was completely naked. After all, none of the family had looked at her like there was anything strange about that. Wednesday didn’t stare at her in that way either, but despite the young woman’s completely blank expression, there was something in her posture that told of a definite lust for Megan’s body. Again, Megan fought the urge to try covering herself. What she really wanted was for the strange, pale beauty to come to her and immediately start kissing her, but despite her obvious desire for Megan, Wednesday continued to carry herself with perfect control.

“Hello,” Wednesday said.

“Um, hi.”

“I am going to have sex with you now.”

Megan’s heart beat faster and her face flushed. She was sure that if Wednesday would just look down at the cleft between her legs, she would find Megan wet to the point of starting to drip down her leg. “W…wait. Shouldn’t we get to know each other first? You don’t even know my name.”

“Of course I know your name. I’ve been waiting for this night for most of my life, so I’ve always made sure to learn the name of any minister within a fifty-mile radius that Calpernia’s spell might attract. You were recently transferred to lead the congregation of First United Memorial Church. You are attracted to women. You are lonely. Is there something else I should know?”

“Uh, I’m a Virgo?” Megan meant it to come out as a joke, but somehow it instead came out as both bashful and flirty at the same time.

“And I’m a Scorpio,” Wednesday said. “Neither of these things have anything to do with the fact that I’m about to fuck you.”

Wednesday turned away from her and walked toward the altar and arch. Megan, dumbfounded, just stood there for several seconds until Wednesday turned back around.

“You seem conflicted. Let me make it easier for you. You can leave right now if you want. Once you come over here and join me, however, you will be mine for the rest of the night. I will do anything at all I want to you. Even then, though, I will still let you go if you use the safe word.”

“What’s the safe word?” Megan asked timidly.

“Rotting corpse,” Wednesday said, as though that were the safest thing in the world that she could possibly think of. She reached up to her blouse and undid the rest of the buttons. Underneath she wore a plain black bra that still somehow managed to be one of the sexiest things Megan had ever seen. She shrugged out of the blouse and casually tossed it into the fire.

_Just do it_, Megan though to herself. _We’ve already established this is only a dream. Might as well go all the way and make it the hottest dream you’ve ever had in your life_. But even with all the details about tonight that couldn’t possibly have been true, Megan knew the heat of the fire and the sweat on her skin were real. If all this was something other than her imagination, then she’d wandered into a part of existence that was both frightening and exhilarating.

If this was just a dream, she wanted to enjoy it. If it _wasn’t_ a dream, then somehow, it’s it own strange way, this night was exactly the answer to her prayers that she’d secretly wanted.

Megan walked slowly towards Wednesday. Recognizing that her guest had decided to stay, she reached around behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra. The straps fell down her arms and the cups came away from her skin, revealing perfectly round globes of flesh that again made Megan pause. Wednesday sent the bra on to the same fate as her blouse.

Wednesday led her to the altar and arch, then stood there for several seconds looking between the two like she was deciding which on she wanted to use. Megan stood behind her and to the left as the young woman chose. She could feel Wednesday’s body heat, and she wanted to reach out and feel if her skin was as soft as it looked, but already an unspoken hierarchy had developed between them. Megan was the sex slave here tonight, and Wednesday was the mistress. Megan instinctually knew that she could do nothing at all, not even caress this beautiful half-naked woman, without her permission.

Wednesday finally went around to the side of the altar and came back with a black length of leather with a buckle on it. It would have looked like a dog collar if not for the unusual level of craftsmanship. It had probably cost a small fortune. Apparently the Addams’ weren’t thrifty when it came to their kinks.

“This is yours, and you are mine,” Wednesday said as she lifted the collar to Megan’s throat. Megan held her hair up and back so her mistress could get the leather band around her neck. Wednesday made sure it was tight, but not so tight that Megan couldn’t breathe.

“Now kneel before me, minister,” Wednesday said. The words had the tone of something written and rehearsed, and Megan had to wonder if those were the same thing Calpernia Addams had said to her own lover so many centuries back. Somehow this felt like the last chance for Megan to meaningfully fight this. She did feel enough trust (which was strange, because she had only just met this woman) to believe that Wednesday would let her go if she said the magic words. But this was more about getting into the headspace of what was happening. If she did as Wednesday said, she had the feeling she would follow it up with a lot of things she’d never dreamed of doing before, and she would do it completely willingly as though in a trance. This was the last chance to avoid that mental space.

And Megan didn’t want to avoid it. If anything, a part of her was overjoyed that this hidden, very submissive and very sexual part of herself would finally be free.

Megan slowly went to her knees in front of Wednesday and lowered her head like a loyal subject before her queen. Wednesday laid a hand on her head. It was gentle at first, reassuring, before she tangled her fingers in the hair and pulled Megan’s head back to look at her.

“Why should I have any respect for someone who drops to her knees so quickly for me, minion?”

Megan wasn’t sure if she was supposed to give a specific answer here. All she could do was search her heart and give the truth.

“I’m not on my knees for you. I’m on my knees for me.”

Wednesday nodded. There might have even been the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, although that could have just been a trick of the flickering firelight. She untangled her fingers from Megan’s hair but kept both hands on her head for balance. “Remove the rest of my clothes.”

Megan was hesitant at first, but as Wednesday pulled at her hair, urging her on, Megan ran her fingers up Wednesday’s bare legs. She was wearing knee-high socks and flats, neither of which Megan would absolutely have to remove to get at what she wanted, but something about this situation called for complete nudity from both of them. Anything less just didn’t fit the scenario. Megan let her hands go up under the skirt to find lace underneath hugging Wednesday’s hips and covering the juncture between her legs. Megan wondered what Wednesday would do if she stopped to play with what she found underneath, but then that wasn’t what her mistress had ordered from her. She had to wonder what would happen if she deliberately disobeyed her, but just because she wondered didn’t mean she had any desire to do it.

_What’s wrong with me_? Megan thought. _That’s not a normal way to act and think. It’s got to be the spell_. But just as quickly, a thought came to contradict it. _Except you know that’s not true. Deep down, you know that you’ve always wanted something like this_.

She didn’t disobey and slide her fingers under the lace, at least not yet. Instead she pulled her hands out from under the skirt, put them on top of the waistband, and pulled both the skirt and panties down Wednesday’s legs. She wanted to stop and look at what her mistress now had to show her, but the desire to obey was stronger, like she felt she had to earn the right to look upon the young woman’s pussy by following her orders to the letter. So after the skirt and panties were on the ground and Wednesday had stepped out of them, Megan got to work on the socks and shoes, forcing herself to abstain from the sight she desperately wanted to see until her work was done. Once she’d helped Wednesday step out of her footwear as well, she gathered up the skirt, panties, socks, and shoes into a bundle, then caught her mistress’s eye and nodded questioningly toward the fire. Wednesday nodded back, and Megan tossed the clothing in to burn up with the rest of her outfit.

And now, with both of them completely nude before each other, Megan allowed herself to fully look upon the naked body of Wednesday Addams.

The woman was extremely pale, a level of pale that would have made her look at home in an open casket in one of the graves that surrounded them. She had a statuesque quality like her mother, and even her pose in front of Megan brought to mind the marble statuary adorning the crypts. The only color that gave away that she was a real living woman were the jet-black braids on her head and the similarly dark thatch of pubic hair between her legs. The bush had been lightly trimmed around the edges but otherwise was allowed to grow wild. Megan so desperately wanted to run her fingers through it, just like she wanted lick the gentle curves of Wednesday’s breasts and suck her light-tan nipples. But she resisted the urge, waiting for what Wednesday ordered of her next.

“Now stand back up and go over to the arch,” Wednesday said. There was a brief moment of disappointment as Megan realized she wouldn’t be able to do anything with her soon-to-be lover yet, but that quickly vanished as she turned to the arch and remembered what it was adorned with. The manacles. Megan whimpered slightly, but the noise certainly wasn’t out of any sort of fear.

“Yes. I know you understand,” Wednesday said. “Do it. Now.”

Every step Megan took toward the arch felt heavy, but at no point did she have any wish to stop. She brought the safe words firmly into mind so she could use them if needed, but whatever limit she had to reach before she would say such a thing, she wasn’t there yet.

Megan stopped underneath the arch and paused only long enough to wonder which way she should face before Wednesday ordered her to turn around and face the bonfire. Wednesday went back to the spot behind the altar long enough to get a key, which Megan was completely unsurprised to find was the old-fashioned short with a silver skull shaped into the bow. She stooped down check the lower set of manacles and make sure the key worked with them properly before she latched them around Megan’s angles. The metal had been infused with the chill of the night, and Megan shivered as the cold restraints clamped tight against her skin. When Wednesday stood up she didn’t even have to instruct Megan what to do next. She simply raised her hands and arms over her head. Wednesday did the same thing with the manacles at her wrists, then went around to the back of the arch. It sounded like there was some kind of wheel-and-gear mechanism back there, and as Wednesday turned it the chains pulled tight into the arch until Megan’s arms and legs were splayed out like some parody of the Vitruvian Man.

Wednesday did a few more things behind her and over near the altar, but Megan was unable to see any of it. The tension of not knowing what was going on, of not knowing what Wednesday would do next, made her pulse go faster and her canal grow slicker with the anticipation.

When Wednesday came back into view, she was holding a short leather whip.

“This is the whip of my great-great-great grandmother Zirconia Addams,” she said.

Megan felt like she was supposed to say something here, but her brain was too flooded with hormones to ask anything profound. “The whip belonged to her?”

“No, it’s made _of_ her,” Wednesday said as she held it straight in front of her where Megan could clearly see it. While the leather was obviously very old, the whip had been meticulously maintained over the generations, even while it was obvious that it have been used frequently. It had three tails coming out of the handle, which Wednesday let slowly slide over Megan’s chest, then between her breasts, over her belly button, and then stopping in her pubic hair just a breath above her clitoris. Megan whimpered some more and undulated her hips, hoping her mistress would get the hint and let the leather touch her sensitive bud. Instead Wednesday walked around Megan, trailing the leather ends of the whip over her hip. The three tails hung down between Megan’s ass cheeks for a moment.

Megan had a feeling she knew what was coming, but knowing wasn’t the same as being prepared for it. Wednesday whipped the leather hard against her ass, and Megan gasped loudly in shock and pain. But in the moments right after the pain, as the whip came away from her, the cool night air felt especially amazing against her hot reddened flesh. There was a long moment before the next blow came, and when it did Megan found herself craving it in a way she’d never felt before, a sort of desire that was unlike anything she’d experienced in any previous sexual experience.

Wednesday whipped her again, but this time it was with less strength and fury. Megan actually murmured to herself in frustration that it wasn’t quite as strong, but the lighter whipping was pleasurable in its own way. The next blow, however, was with the same strength as the first. Megan understood then. Her mistress wasn’t going to let her anticipate what would come next. Each lash across her ass would be slightly different, just enough that Megan would never get completely used to it.

Megan desperately wished she could finger herself as Wednesday laid the lash into her. The painful yet strangely intense sensations were just enough to bring her to the edge of a climax, but not quite enough to push her over the edge. That was probably by design, she realized. Wednesday didn’t want her little toy to have too much fun just yet. There was still quite a bit more ahead of them.

Megan lost count of how many lashes Wednesday gave her before she finally stopped. None of it had been enough to break skin, but Megan’s ass felt raw nonetheless. She doubted she would be able to sit down right now. Yet it suddenly occurred to her that at no point during the flogging had she been tempted to use the safe word. There had been pain, but it had been of a kind previously unknown to her, one that came very close to being straight-up pleasure. Yet somehow the best part came only seconds later, when Wednesday gently put her hands against the reddened skin of Megan’s butt cheeks and kneaded them softly. It was the first moment Wednesday had truly touched any part of her naked body, Megan realized, at least for anything more than simply setting up the scene. The gasp that left her lips at Wednesday’s touch was even deeper than the one she’d made at the first lash.

“Please,” Megan whispered. “I want…” She didn’t finish, because she wasn’t even sure anymore what she wanted. It didn’t sound like Wednesday would have let her continue the sentence, anyway.

“You’ll get exactly what you want when I’m done playing with you. And I’m not done yet.”

When Wednesday’s hands fell away it felt to Megan like a deep loss, and all she could do was listen intently to whatever her mistress was doing behind her, hoping that Wednesday would give her sweet relief soon. It sounded like she set the whip down while getting something else. Megan was prepared for another blow of some sort to come, but instead Wednesday took Megan’s collar and attached something to it that hung down her back. A leash, Megan realized. It stayed dangling there as Wednesday unlocked the manacles, each time gently rubbing Megan’s wrists and ankles as they were freed. Once that was done, Wednesday took the end of the leash and came around once more to view Megan from the front. She tugged gently at the leash.

“Come,” Wednesday said.

Megan started to speak. “What are you going…”

Wednesday tugged harder. “Come!”

Megan shut up and followed Wednesday as she brought them both closer to the fire. The bonfire had started to die down some without anything being fed into it, and Megan felt a brief moment of terror at the idea that maybe Wednesday was about to push her in, that this was all some elaborate plot to use Megan as a human sacrifice. But they stopped well away from the flames, far enough away to not get burned but close enough to feel the heat.

Somewhere from out in the night, farther away this time than the gravestones, music began to play again. It sounded like it could be some kind of waltz, yet it was not one that Megan had ever heard before. It was like a slow, seductive theme for Wednesday herself and her entire family, the kind of thing that someone had to be truly privileged to hear and be a part of.

Wednesday stood there staring at her with her stone-cold face, and for a moment Megan was completely oblivious to what was expected of her. Then, as the music rose, Megan found herself moving with it. And with her hand still firmly on the leash, Wednesday moved with it as well, her every turn and sway a compliment of the moves Megan herself did. Their dance grew, completely improvised by Megan but with all the grace of something she had spent much of her life practicing. Wednesday led her around on the leash the way Gomez had led Morticia in their dance earlier. They moved and spun and worked their way around the fire, starting slow and then going faster, the level of excitement and power flowing between them and growing with each circuit around the bonfire that they made.

Megan didn’t realize that neither of them had touched each other until the two of them got so close in their dance that she could feel Wednesday’s breath on her. Vaguely she realized that Wednesday and the music were pulling her away from the fire and closer to the altar. Instinctually Megan knew that this was where all of this would finally end, that they would use the altar to consummate this thing that had been building between them, and she wanted to go there, to finally do this, but she didn’t dare try to take the lead away from her mistress.

When Megan backed into the altar, the music stopped. The fire seemed to gutter low as if someone had just tried to douse it and only partially succeeded. The night became completely silent. Even the insects and natural noises of the night ceased.

And Wednesday was finally against her, their bodies pressed tight, their breasts mashed together. Megan suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe, like all the air had been ripped right from her lungs. To give her the air back, Wednesday pressed her mouth to Megan’s and breathed deep into her before it became a true kiss.

Megan came immediately.

Wednesday held her so her lower back pressed into the stone slab as the orgasm ripped through her, hitting her dead center in the groin and spreading out through her body in spasmic waves. She cried out in shock and wonder at the spectacular feeling pulsing through her. She’d had orgasms before, both by herself and with lovers, but nothing that had ever matched this. She wondered for a moment if the magic that was obviously present in this place and time was somehow influencing the strength of her climax, but she discarded that idea as she shook and trembled in her mistress’s arms. This was all Wednesday’s doing, not some magic spell.

Wednesday held her tight as the powerful convulsions finished going through Megan’s body. She’d let go of the leash and now had her arms firmly around Megan, and her strength felt like the only thing that was keeping her from collapsing. When her body finally stopped twitching of its own will, Wednesday pulled away from the kiss.

It was brief, a moment that Megan could have easily missed if she’d looked away, but there was no doubt about it. Wednesday smiled at her.

Then the smile was gone, and her serious mistress was back. “Don’t collapse yet. I’m not finished with you.” Wednesday took her by the upper arms and spun both of them around so she was now the one against the altar. Megan loved the feel of her fingers digging into her skin and longed to have those hands continuing to move all over her body, touching everywhere and everything, probing her in places she’d never had anyone explore before. But the touch was short-lived. Wednesday put her hands on the altar and boosted herself up so she was sitting on it. Megan was unsure what this meant until Wednesday spread her legs.

“I gave you one, now you give me one,” she said. She didn’t need to order Megan to do it a second time. She had been ready to taste Wednesday since they had started, and rather than an order, this almost felt like a reward.

Megan kneeled down. The height of the altar made it so that Wednesday’s pussy was at just about the right height for her face. For a second Megan wasn’t entirely sure what she should do. She certainly knew the general gist, but was Wednesday expecting her to go right to work on her clit, finger and tongue fucking her fast and hard? Did she want something slow that built up? Asking didn’t seem quite in line with the game they were playing here.

So she started by gently kissing the insides of Wednesday’s thighs. The slight hiss of breath she let out made Megan think this wasn’t where she had expected Megan to start, but it was still appreciated. She kissed first the left then the right, graduating from simple kisses to playful nips as she worked her way down the legs toward Wednesday’s core. With each inch of skin, she looked up at Wednesday’s face to see her porcelain stoicism slipping a little more each time. Finally she reached the tender folds at the center and took just the briefest moment to breathe in the scent of Wednesday’s lust. Then her tongue was on Wednesday’s labia, softly moving up them until her lips could close and form suction on the clit.

The moan that escaped Wednesday’s lips was exquisite.

When it became evident that her mistress wasn’t going to order her to stop or do something else, Megan grew bolder and brought her hands up to the juncture of Wednesday’s legs. Her right hand gripped the young woman’s thigh while her left went to join her tongue in exploring Wednesday’s center. When she slipped a solitary finger into her vagina, Megan found Wednesday’s juices instantly coating her. With all that lubrication Megan was easily able to add a second finger, then a third, and pumped all three in and out of Wednesday in a steady rhythm. Wednesday’s hips pushed back against each thrust, and the two of them increased their rhythm more and more with ever growing moans and cries from Wednesday’s lips. Megan increased the speed with which she fingered her, but right before she was sure Wednesday would reach her arrival she put her hands on Megan’s head and pushed her away. She couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden loss of Wednesday’s taste on her tongue.

“Not yet. Soon, but not yet,” Wednesday said. Megan didn’t argue. Instead she licked Wednesday’s secretions from her chin and waited for the next order.

Wednesday hopped down off the altar, the patted where she had just been. “Sit.” Megan did exactly as she was asked. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen but her heart murmured with what Wednesday said next.

“Lie down. On your back. It’s time to end this.”

Megan didn’t want any of this to end. She wanted this strange, erotic night of bewitching to never stop. Yet at the same time, the idea that an end was near also implied that the most intense part of all was about to happen.

Megan lay down on the stone and stared up at the brilliant night sky. She thought of the altar and again considered how this almost suggested that she was about to be a sacrifice of some kind. Megan didn’t want to die, but she felt that it would almost be worth it after everything that had happened tonight. Wednesday walked away from the altar to wherever she’d been keeping her tools and came back with something long in her hands. For a second Megan thought it really was a sacrificial dagger, and she prepared to close her eyes and let the end come.

Wednesday held the object up where Megan could clearly see it. It wasn’t a blade. It was a very large polished ivory dildo.

“It’s passed down from generation to generation, from mother to daughter,” Wednesday explained. “It’s carved from the bone of the first man who thought he could take advantage of an Addams woman. Now his fate is to serve us forever.”

Megan stared at it in awe. Part of her believed Wednesday while part of her thought the young woman had to be making it up. Before she could make any further comment, though, Wednesday placed the rounded tip at the skin over Megan’s heart. Slowly she moved the smooth dildo down over her breast, around her belly button, and through the thicket of her pubic hair until it was at Megan’s entrance. The pearly head slipped slightly into the moist folds, but Wednesday did not fully push it in yet. She seemed to be waiting for something, maybe for Megan to beg. Megan tried, she really did, but all she could force out of her lips was a soft, urgent moan of need.

Wednesday seemed to find that sufficient. With an almost savage movement, she thrust the cock-shaped bone into Megan’s cunt. Megan screamed at the sudden fullness. She hadn’t realized just how large it was until it shoved at her inner walls, spreading her insides farther than she’d ever been opened before.

“Fuck! Oh fuck!” Megan screamed. It wasn’t exactly a sound of pain. More like shock. The scream caused Wednesday to fuck her faster and harder, shoving the dildo deep enough to bump Megan’s cervix. Megan almost used the safe word at that, but surprisingly Wednesday seemed to realize without hearing it that she was getting dangerously close to going beyond the accepted levels of pain. She kept thrusting the bone in and out of Megan, no longer quite so far in but much faster.

“I’m going to… I’m going to…” Megan tried to get the rest of the words out, but before she could Wednesday ripped the dildo out from between Megan’s legs. Before she could protest, Wednesday hopped up on the altar to join her. She could see that Wednesday’s body was sheathed in sweat, and the rapid pace of her breathing suggested that Megan wasn’t the only one ready to come. Wednesday nimbly positioned herself over Megan with their legs intertwined and their pussies pressed tight against each other. Wednesday’s hips ground against her, pushing hard and forcing their sensitive buds to slip and slide against one another.

Their bodies imploded with pleasure at the same time. Megan called out a sound that to her own ears seemed like a maiden being mauled and ravished by the monster in an old black and white movie. But Wednesday? As she undulated and shook and convulsed on top of Megan, Wednesday leaned her head back to the night sky and howled.

There might have been a few seconds there where Megan honestly passed out, because the next thing she remembered Wednesday was on her side next to her, both of them lying languidly on the altar as the lungs tried to force air back into their exhausted bodies. Wednesday’s hand roamed up and down Megan’s body, her fingers going up the hills of her breasts and tracing her nipple before going back down and lightly exploring the hollow of her neck. Wednesday’s other hand played gently with her hair. Megan turned her head to look at Wednesday, almost expecting another smile. There was none, but as she sat there with one hand propping up her head she somehow looked content and happy in her own glowering way.

“Thing, stop that. Get out of here.”

“Huh?” Megan asked as the hand at her head disappeared.

“Nothing. Never mind,” Wednesday said.

“So, uh, now what?” Megan asked.

“Now I suppose you go home,” Wednesday said. “I’ve done what I wanted to do.” It might have been Megan’s imagination, but she almost sounded a bit sad.

“Was… was this a one-time thing?”

“If you want it to be, it is.”

“And if I don’t want it to be?”

Wednesday’s hand moved up to Megan’s throat to toy with the collar. “Then you still go home tonight. But you go home wearing this. And you would come when I call you.”

“I would be yours? Your plaything to use whenever you want.”

“Yes. But don’t forget, I would be _your_ plaything in your own way.”

Because that was the truth of this night, wasn’t it? Megan had given herself over completely and let another person control her. But she had never really been outside of her own control. She’d had the ability to stop whenever she’d wanted. She just hadn’t wanted. Giving up complete control, yet doing it of her own free will, was kind of the reason she had followed the path she had in life, wasn’t it?

“I would like that, Mistress Wednesday,” Megan said.

Wednesday bent down to give her a kiss. Despite her earlier suggestion that it was time to go, they both chose to stay there on the altar for a very long time.


End file.
